


Concussed

by sahiya



Series: A Soft Place to Land [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Car Accidents, Caretaking, College Student Peter Parker, Concussions, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Concussion Syndrome, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29682237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: Peter had had his fair share of concussions in his time. More than his fair share, some (Tony, May, Happy) might say. Mostly they came and went, just as fast as any of his other injuries.It felt stupid that after everything it was a run-of-the-mill car accident that landed him flat on his back. The sort of thing that could happen to anyone. The sort of thing thatdidhappen to anyone. A late night, a patch of black ice he hadn’t seen, andboom.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: A Soft Place to Land [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567666
Comments: 14
Kudos: 199
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Concussed

**Author's Note:**

> For "car accident" and "memory loss" in Febuwhump 2021.

Peter had had his fair share of concussions in his time. More than his fair share, some (Tony, May, Happy) might say. Mostly they came and went, just as fast as any of his other injuries. 

It felt stupid that after everything it was a run-of-the-mill car accident that landed him flat on his back. The sort of thing that could happen to anyone. The sort of thing that _did_ happen to anyone. A late night, a patch of black ice he hadn’t seen, and _boom_. 

Or so Peter assumed. He didn’t remember the accident. He remembered saying good-bye to his study group on campus and getting in his car. The next thing that was really clear was the hospital. He didn’t remember the accident, or the cops pulling him out of the car, or the ambulance ride. He remembered insisting he was all right, even though everyone around him was pretty skeptical, and he remembered signing himself out and calling an Uber to take him home, since his car had been towed to a nearby garage. 

It all looked pretty irrational in retrospect, Peter had to admit from the perspective of the bathroom floor the next morning. He hadn’t puked but he was really, really nauseous, and his head felt like it’d been stepped on by an elephant, or maybe by Rhino on one of his rampages. He was also way more sore than he’d expected; he hadn’t broken any ribs but he’d definitely bruised some, and he was feeling them more than he should be. 

Insisting that he was fine to come home to a totally empty house seemed like maybe it wasn’t the best decision he’d ever made. But in his defense, he hadn’t expected to wake up feeling just as bad as when he’d gone to sleep. 

His phone was ringing. Peter groaned, fumbling for it. His head felt so heavy and also somehow like it was stuffed full of cotton. “‘Lo?” he managed. 

“Hey kid,” Tony’s voice blared. Peter flinched and desperately tried to turn down the volume. “Did I wake you up?”

Peter blinked at the ceiling. Tony didn’t know, he realized. He didn’t know about the accident or the concussion or any of it. He and Pepper and Morgan had been gone for the last three days, visiting Pepper’s parents outside of Chicago. They weren’t due home for another week. “No,” he finally said. 

“Okay, well, we’re heading into the city for the day,” Tony went on. “Just wanted to check in. How’s the project for fluid dynamics going?”

That was what he’d been working on with his study group the day before, Peter recalled. Just trying to think about it made the pain behind his eyes increase from about a five to about a seven. _Shit_. Today was going to be a wash, work-wise. Tomorrow might be, too. 

“Pete?” Tony said, and Peter realized he hadn’t responded. 

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

There was a pause. “Everything okay?” 

Peter wasn’t sure how to answer. If he told Tony what was going on, he would overreact, he was pretty sure. He might even drop everything to fly back. As bad as Peter was feeling, he didn’t want _that_. 

Plus... he didn’t think Tony would be mad about the car, but he kind of wasn’t sure. And Peter couldn’t even say for sure that it wasn’t his fault, because he didn’t remember. It’d only been him involved, they’d said, and the road had been slick, but maybe he’d fallen asleep behind the wheel. Maybe he’d taken a turn too fast and lost control. 

“Peter?” Tony said, more urgently now. “Kid, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

“Nothing,” Peter finally said. “I’m just tired.”

“Uh huh. Care to explain why you were at Cayuga County Emergency Department at one in the morning last night? And yes, I did just track your phone, you can complain to me later about how it’s an invasion of your privacy.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “I, um. I was in a car accident.”

“You were — Pete, that’s the sort of thing you lead with! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, just kind of... concussed. I don’t know how bad the car is yet ––”

“I don’t give a shit about the car,” Tony interrupted. “The car is replaceable. You are not. Be honest, Pete. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. My head hurts and I’m pretty sore from the seatbelt and the airbag, but I’m okay.”

Tony hummed in acknowledgement and then went quiet. It took Peter a few moments to realize that that was probably a bad thing. “Tony?”

“I’m checking to see how fast I can file a flight plan and get back,” Tony said. “Dammit, a suit would’ve been so much fas ––”

“Tony, Tony, stop,” Peter said. He forced himself to sit up, phone in his hand, and lean against the wall. Maybe if he was upright, he’d sound more convincing. “You don’t have to come home. I just have a headache, that’s all.”

“Yeah, Pete, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you sound like hell, and you’re clearly not firing on all cylinders. I don’t like the idea of leaving you on your own. Neither will Pepper, once I tell her what’s going on.”

Peter groaned. “But your trip. Morgan’ll be so disappointed. I’m fine, I promise. Don’t come back.” 

There was a brief pause. Tony sighed. “Are you sure?”

Peter blinked. He hadn’t expected Tony to give in so easily. He hadn’t expected Tony to give in at all, if he was honest. After getting what he’d asked for so suddenly, Peter realized he wasn’t sure he wanted it. “Yes,” he said, voice smaller than he’d intended. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Call if you need anything, all right? Or call May –– oh hell, she and Happy are in the Bahamas, aren’t they? Then call Rhodey or Sam –– they’re both at the compound this weekend. They can get to you pretty fast. Stay hydrated, too, that’ll help with the headache. I say this as a veteran of many a concussion.”

Peter smiled weakly. “I will. Have fun. Kiss Mo for me.”

“Will do. I’ll call you later. Love you, kid. Take care of yourself.”

Peter’s eyes flooded with tears. “Love you, too,” he mumbled, hoping his voice didn’t break too obviously.

They disconnected. Peter let his head rest against the wall and closed his eyes. He wished, perversely, that Tony hadn’t taken him at his word. He was the world’s most overbearing dad right up until Peter actually needed him to be, and then he backed off. What the hell was up with that?

It was too late, though, to call him back and ask him to come home. He hadn’t lied. He was fine. 

He’d feel better if he went back to bed, he decided. Sitting on the bathroom floor wasn’t doing his body any good. He managed to get first to the edge of the tub, where he sat, resting, and then, holding onto the wall, to his feet. His head spun, but it passed after a few seconds. He paused at the sink to fill a cup with some water and took it with him into his bedroom, where he collapsed across the unmade bed, burrowing into the blankets to block out the light

It occurred to him then that maybe he _should_ call Sam or Rhodey. They’d both been clear that they considered themselves on Peter’s team. If he’d gotten hurt as Spiderman, he might’ve been more inclined. But this wasn’t a superhero thing, this was just a dumb human thing. It felt silly to call them. 

He’d take a nap, he decided, eyes sliding shut without any conscious input from him, and when he woke up, if he still felt this bad, he’d call someone. 

***

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway woke Peter out of a dead sleep, hours later. It was dark already, Peter realized, lifting his head blearily. He’d slept the entire day. 

He felt like roadkill. He felt like roadkill, and someone was here when Peter wasn’t expecting anyone. He tensed, ready to roll out of bed and... throw up on the intruder, possibly? It felt like a distinct possibility. That would show them. 

But then he heard the telltale double beep of Tony setting his car alarm and relaxed. Until he realized that Tony wasn’t supposed to be home _at all_. 

“Dammit, Tony,” he groaned, letting himself fall back onto the bed. 

He listened as Tony came in the front door. He dropped his keys on the table and hung up his jacket. Peter expected him to take his luggage upstairs, but instead he came straight down the hall toward Peter’s room. 

He knocked lightly on Peter’s door. “Pete?”

“Yeah,” Peter muttered. 

Tony opened the door. 

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds. Finally Peter said, “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Tony shrugged. “Seemed like the fastest way to end the argument was to agree with you, then do whatever I wanted anyway.”

Peter snorted. “God, you’re such a dick sometimes.”

Tony sat on the edge of Peter’s bed. Peter shifted over a little to make room. “No offense, but you’re a pretty lousy liar. And I wasn’t okay, knowing you were injured and alone. Head injuries are ––”

“–– unpredictable,” Peter finished. It was what May said every time he got a concussion. “I know.” He bit his lip. “Mo wasn’t upset?”

“Mo has her grandparents, her mother, two aunts, an uncle, and three cousins to distract her from any disappointment she might feel,” Tony said. This wasn’t exactly a _no_ , Peter noticed. “And Pepper and I were a hundred percent in agreement that I needed to come home. So was May, when I called her.”

“You called May?”

“Of course I called May.”

Peter bit his lip. “Was she mad?”

“No, bud, she wasn’t mad. She was worried. Why did you think we’d be mad at you?”

Peter shrugged. “I wrecked my car?”

“I don’t care about the car.”

“Then... I dunno.” Peter sighed, too exhausted to try and explain his own behavior. 

Tony took pity on him. “Where are your discharge instructions?”

Peter gestured toward the nightstand. He’d dumped everything there last night before falling into bed. Tony sorted through the pile of paperwork, coming up with the instructions. “Okay,” he said. “No screens. No painkillers. Stay hydrated. Bland foods if nauseous. What day of the week is it?”

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Saturday.”

“Have you eaten anything?”

“No.”

“Then let’s start with that. Buttered noodles okay? And maybe a shake with some protein powder?”

Peter nodded. He almost couldn’t talk, he was so grateful to Tony for coming home and just... taking care of everything. Despite his insistence that morning that he would be fine, despite his annoyance at Tony choosing to overrule him, it was a relief. 

“Okay.” Tony stood up, then leaned over and kissed Peter on the top of his head. “That’s from your aunt and Mo and Pepper. All of whom are really, really glad that you’re okay.”

Peter swallowed, still not sure he could speak. But Tony seemed to get it. 

***

Peter had to admit that he felt better with some food in him. His head still hurt, but it felt a lot clearer. Clear enough that he was kind of embarrassed. 

“You really didn’t need to come home, you know,” Peter said around a mouthful of noodles and butter. 

“Mmm hmm.”

“I would’ve been okay.”

Tony gave him the side-eye. “Any chance we could skip this conversation? Since I’m already here and I think deep down we’re both glad that I am?”

Peter wanted to argue. He was an adult, dammit, and he didn’t always need Tony to come running like he was still a clueless fifteen-year-old. 

But the truth was that he was right. Not that Peter was about to say so. 

“You’re not always going to be able to do this,” Peter said. It was the best he could come up with under the circumstances.

Tony sipped at the alarmingly green shake he’d made himself, because he was a freak that way. “I know. But I could this time. So do we really have to argue about it? Can’t we just take it as a given that I respect your autonomy, but you’re my kid, and I’m always going to try and be there when you need me?”

When he put it that way, Peter felt kind of silly for being mad. “Fine. We don’t have to argue about it.”

“Good.” Tony rested a hand on the back of Peter’s neck. “You look a little better.”

“I feel a little better.” Peter shoved the last bite of noodles into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. Then he leaned over to set the bowl on the nightstand and swiped his phone while he was there. 

He had a bunch of messages, he saw. He was about to start scrolling through them when Tony grabbed the phone out of his hand. “Hey!” Peter protested. 

“No screens,” Tony said sternly. “It’s written in big bold letters across the top of your discharge instructions.”

“But I have messages!”

“Want me to read them to you?” Tony asked. “Or I could have FRIDAY do it, if you think there’s something embarrassing in here.”

Peter’s life was too boring for there to be anything embarrassing, but he still didn’t love the idea of Tony reading through his messages. “FRIDAY,” he said decisively, and took his phone back. “Just the highlights and anything that I need to know about right now.”

“You have two messages from your aunt, asking you to call her,” FRIDAY said. “You also have a message from Ned Leeds that does not require immediate attention, and three messages from Sandi Duncan ––”

“Oh shit, we were supposed to meet today about the project,” Peter groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. “It’s due on Wednesday.”

“FRIDAY, text Sandi and tell her that Peter got into a car accident on the way home last night and has a concussion,” Tony said. “He’ll be in touch if he can work tomorrow, but if they’re going to have issues making their deadline, let me know and I’ll help them speak with the professor.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Wait, no,” Peter said. “You can’t just –– just throw your name around like that.”

“Well, I can,” Tony said, “but before I do that, I’ll help you write to him yourself and ask for a couple extra days. You have a concussion, Pete, no one expects you to work.”

“You clearly haven’t met the engineering faculty at Cornell. I don’t want special treatment.”

“And I don’t want you hurting yourself for a grade no one will care about.”

“I care. So does Sandi and the rest of my group.”

“I know, so I’ll do my best to help. It’s gonna be okay. I don’t want you to stress yourself out about it.”

It was, unfortunately, too late. Peter could feel the headache and nausea that had briefly abated creeping back in. He pushed away his empty bowl, not even wanting to look at the butter congealing at the bottom anymore. Tony took the hint and carted the dishes away, back into the kitchen. Peter heard him call May, then, too. He kept his voice down, and while Peter would’ve normally listened in to see what they were saying about him, this time it didn’t seem worth the effort. He had a feeling he already knew. 

“Hey, kid, you want to talk to your aunt?” Tony asked when he returned. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, holding his hand out. Tony handed him the phone and wandered back out to give him some privacy. 

“Hi May,” Peter said, sinking back against the headboard. 

“Hi sweetie, how are you doing?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I bet. I wish you’d called me.”

Peter swallowed. “I didn’t want you to worry. I’m really okay. Tony is being extra.”

“I don’t think he is, based on what he told me. And I, for one, am really glad he’s there.”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted quietly. “Me too.” He sucked in a quick breath. “I’m sorry about the car.”

“Honey, no one cares about the car. We’re just glad you weren’t more badly hurt.”

“But the car is a _car_ ,” Peter insisted, wondering why the hell no one else seemed to get that but him. “And I wrecked it.”

There was a beat of silence, as though May was absorbing this. “Do you _want_ me to be mad at you?”

“I dunno,” Peter said, picking at a bit of fuzz on his blanket. “Feels like someone should be.”

“I think you’re already mad enough at yourself,” May said, “and we don’t even know that it was your fault.”

“We don’t know that it wasn’t, either,” Peter replied. “I can’t remember. I don’t know if there was a deer or if it was just icy or if I fell asleep. I can’t remember _anything_.”

“Honey, honey, take a deep breath, all right?” May said. “I can understand how that would bother you. Let’s say, worst case scenario, it was your fault. Being an adult doesn’t mean that you never make mistakes. Being an adult means that you deal with the consequences of your actions. In this case, we can all be glad that those consequences are limited to a concussion you’ll recover from and a wrecked car.”

“I guess. But doesn’t dealing with the consequences mean I should pay to fix the car?” Peter said. “Or replace it if it can’t be fixed?”

“That’s for you to work out with Tony,” May said, “since the car was his gift to you. But if you want to do that, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks,” Peter said quietly. 

“Of course, baby. I’ll call again later, all right? Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Peter disconnected. He sat with the phone in his hand, staring out the window, until Tony knocked lightly and let himself in. He sat on the edge of the bed, hand on Peter's knee over the blankets, and didn’t say anything. 

“It really bothers me that I can’t remember what happened,” Peter finally said. 

“I know, kid.”

“It was late. I should’ve stayed over, but I wanted to sleep in my own bed. You’ve warned me so many times not to drive if I’m tired, but I really wanted to come home.”

“Pete...”

“I want to pay for the car,” Peter said, finally looking at Tony. “And before you say anything, I know you’re a billionaire, I know you can afford it. That’s not the point.”

Tony pressed his lips together like he was physically holding back an argument, but then he nodded. “All right.”

Peter relaxed. “Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me for letting you pay for repairs to your car?”

“For not arguing with me about it,” Peter corrected him. “For respecting that it’s important to me, even if it doesn’t make sense to you.”

“It makes sense to me,” Tony said, though Peter suspected he was at least half-lying. He didn’t think Tony could really know what it was like to make that sort of financial sacrifice. It wasn’t that Peter didn’t have the money; he’d been paid well for his internship at SI last summer, and most of that money was just sitting in a bank account. But it was still going to hurt. Peter wasn’t sure Tony could really get what that was like. 

It didn’t matter, though, because Tony had accepted it. Even if he didn’t fully understand it.

“Well, no movies for us,” Tony said, when Peter didn’t say anything more. “What do you want to do? Unless you’re ready to go back to sleep.”

“Not yet.” Peter bit his lip, wondering how much he wanted to test his luck. “Say... can I introduce you to the wide world of _Star Wars_ audiobooks? There’s an entire extended universe out there. Granted, Disney retconned a bunch of it, but it’s still _Star Wars_.”

Tony got a look on his face he was suddenly regretting all his life choices. “Jesus Christ, I should have stayed in Chicago,” he muttered, even as he shifted over so he was sitting next to Peter, up against the headboard. “Move over, kid. FRIDAY, pull up the _Star Wars_ audiobook catalogue. The things I do for you...”

Peter smiled to himself, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder as he started downloading literally the _entire_ audiobook catalogue. He picked one almost at random and let Tony put his arm around him, tucking him into his side. He was being a little extra, Peter thought, but he couldn’t get too mad about it. That was just Tony. 

It still bothered him that he couldn’t remember what had happened — that he probably never would. But things could have been worse. Much worse, in fact. May was right. The best thing to do would be to deal with the consequences while being grateful it had turned out as well as it had.

“Thanks for coming home,” Peter said quietly, in a break between chapters. 

Tony squeezed his shoulders. “Always, kid. Always.”

_Fine._

**Author's Note:**

> Next and final fic: "recovery," set in the soulbond universe!


End file.
